Figuring Out Life While Aging
New moon and fog As I glance out From my cave. A smugglers’ night: where are they? (Words on a page Delight me. I wouldn’t, couldn’t Be taught to hear As you heard.) Some trees are leafless Skeletonal And some cling to their leaves. (You’ve left And a new season Is emerging Into bleak darkness.) A brief flash of light - Others carry treasures I can’t see Or hear now But I am not alone.
I wake sulky, reluctant, reviewing my resentments, lonely, yet don’t want visitors. Nothing satisfies: the sun is too bright; Our home too quiet. I want to hide. Another funeral - sitting huddled within myself, fists clenched, trying not to listen, wanting to leave, shaking. I crave - a softening in my throat, eyes that don’t itch, a conversation no longer available. Somewhere there is joy, waiting, perhaps, to flash through me, again, but now I’m grieving.
My summer is over; chill seeps into the silent room: winter comes..
Grief, like an infant
held to my heart
whimpers,
and I don’t know
how to comfort.
I walk on,
hoping for silence,
past homes
where death has
also visited
on this dark street.
If I could weep,
if I could mourn,
if I could comfort
(if i could silence
this abandoned child),
Perhaps I could rest.
Lament 3 The moment I wish to speak of the one gone, that moment my mouth opens and jagged phrases stumble out, That moment we’re locked in this incoherent moment, caught in a miasma of loss, of sorrow.
Slivers of light leak in through the screen and pane, under the heavy blue curtain. In the dawning dimness, a mirror reflects partially, a half-open door hiding what lies beyond. I am alone in a strange city.
I exhale grief like smoke, On a hot summer night alone Except for emails And ads. Where is he now, body and spirit, Shrouded beyond In mysteries. I turn away, Pick up my tasks, look at nothing, and hide in darkness.
Learning Living 